Salome probably was not unhappy then; indeed,—­whether she knew it or not,—­she was at her happiest.  But new events were at hand; Thor, growing yearly more restless, at length resolved to sell his house and go to Europe, taking with him Salome and both the children.  Everything was ready, down to the packing of Salome’s box.  A day or two before the sailing, Thor went to New Jersey, to bid farewell to his eccentric brother-in-law.  It was a warm summer day, and the children played from morning till night in the front yard, while Nurse sat in the window and kept her eye on them.  Her thoughts, perhaps, travelled elsewhere.

Since her misfortune she had, no doubt, had more opportunity than most women for reflection:  silence breeds thought.  What she thought about, no one knew; but she could hardly have forgotten Manetho.  On this last evening, when at the point of leaving America forever, it would have been strange had no memory of him passed through her mind.

She had not heard his name in the last four years, and she knew that he suspected nothing of her whereabouts.  Had he ever wished to see her? she wondered and thought, “He would not know me if he did see me!” With that came a tumultuous longing once more to look upon him.  Too late!  Why had she not thought of this before?  Now must her last memory of him be still as when, disfigured by sudden rage, he turned upon her and struck her on the bosom.  There was the scar yet; the fire had spared it!  It was a keepsake which, as time passed, Salome strangely learned to love!

It was growing dusk,—­time for the children to come in.  They were sitting deep in the abundant grass, weaving necklaces out of dandelion-stems.  Nurse leaned out of window and beckoned to attract their attention.  But either they were too much absorbed to notice her, or they were wilfully blind; so Nurse rose to go out and fetch them.

Before reaching the open front door, she stopped short and her heart seemed to turn over.  A tall dark man was leaning over the fence, talking with the little girl.  Nurse shrank within the shadow of the door, and thence peeped and listened,—­as well as her beating pulses would let her.

“I know where fairy-land is,” says the man, in the soft, engaging tone that the listener so well remembers.  “Come! shall we go together and visit it?”

“He come too?” asks the little maiden, nodding towards the boy, who is portentously busy over his dandelions.

“He may if he likes,” the man answers with a smile.  “But we must make haste, or fairy-land will be shut up!”

It flashes into Salome’s head what this portends.  She had heard this man vow revenge on Thor long ago, and she now sees how he means to keep his oath.  He has shrewdly improved the opportunity of Thor’s absence, and has come intending to carry off either his son or his daughter.  Fortune, it seems, had chosen for him the dark-eyed little girl.  See! he stoops and lifts her gently over the wall, and they are off for fairy-land!